On the Step
by Happiness's Deceit
Summary: An outsider's point of view. There was a boy on her step, again... 'I promised to wait for him forever.'


_I own nothing but the story below._

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There's a boy sitting on the step again, too young to be in _this_ kind of business, but too old to be ignorant of it. People are looking at him—really_ looking_ in a way that made her feel ashamed. This boy, however, ignored the looks and simply watched the ocean.

He was beautiful, to be sure—even with his strange uniform she had never seen before. An ebony hair color, unusually deep eyes, and a face that was definitely pretty enough to belong to the other gender. Yet he never used it to get something from anyone, simply let it sit there.

It struck her as odd in a lot of situations…but he seemed adamant that this is where he was to belong, where he was going to wither away. She rarely saw him eat, and when he did, it was always at her shop. She supposed she was glad that he made the attempt to eat, even surrounded by the mal aura this area was always covered in. 

Maybe he had noticed her watching him? Maybe that was why, among all of the shops here, hers was the only one he had decided was good enough for him to eat. Maybe he had decided that this was the one place he could feel safe.

She had once asked him why he had chosen to sit _here_ of all places. It was a bad area—one of the highest crime rates in the world—but he had no business here. He was not like some of them. He probably had a family, a warm house, and a place to belong. So, she had asked him…what was a person like that doing amongst the city _trash_? 

He had remained silent, not an ashamed silence, but one that told her he was really _thinking_ about how to answer her. Then he had left the shop, a few coins too many for the food she had given him, and not returned to the step.

He had stayed away for a week.

During that time, it had been a bit strange, looking at her step and not seeing the beautiful male. She thought he may have been an imagination, a dream thought up by her bored—_hurting_—subconscious. If that was the case, she was glad for how long he had lasted.

On the fifth day, she couldn't help but keep glancing at the step, almost nervously. It wasn't as if the boy was never going to return, right? No, she would scold herself; she knew that she would be happy no matter what the outcome. 

It was on the seventh day that he returned, to a situation she had never had happen before. 

She was on the table, held down with a gun at her throat. Her cash register was open, and various hooligans rummaged through her drawers. There were probably six of them, too many for her to even think about running out on. At least half of them had guns. 

But he simply waltzed into her shop that day, took one look at them, and then his eyes lit up with a shine she had never seen before. 

"Go," he had simply said, eyes alight with that strange shine. And they went. None of them even took anything; but she was too flabbergasted to realize this fact—it would be noticed, later on. She realized that it was the first time he had spoken. 

She served him what he usually ordered, a coffee with a white tart, almost mechanically. Her mind mulled over the shine, over the way that the others had just _obeyed_ him, without question. 

Then she smiled, putting the thought off until later. "You never answered me: why do you sit here, of all places?"

He regarded her more quietly than he had last time and at last answered. "I made a promise."

"To do what?" She murmured.

A sad, soft smile graced his lips. "To wait forever." Then, as if beckoned, he continued. "I promised him." 

She didn't ask anymore for a while, just remained silent as he finished his food. Normally he would leave; today he asked for another. She served it to him, quickly, and watched him eat it, bite by bite.

"Maybe he isn't coming for you to wait for." She ventured. "I've seen you. You always wait, on this step, in this horrible area—what's to say he hasn't forgotten about you?" 

The spoon clattered to the plate. 

And he left without another word.

_Outsider,  
Outsider,  
You're outside,  
Looking in.  
What do you know—  
About__**anything?**_

He didn't come back. He just disappeared. It made her feel kind of sad, inside, but she could live without him. Her step was always empty, but those men never came to her store again, either. Curiously, her store was one of the few that were never attacked. 

Three years later, when those people had been caught, something odd happened. In a crowd, she saw the boy. 

But his eyes were different now, and he greeted her with a warm smile she had never seen before. It lit his face up in a more natural way than that strange shine that day, and she moved her way towards him. However, before she could follow, he began to move away, quicker that she could. Every step she took, he took three. 

Soon enough, she stood at the dock, alone. A cold wind curled its way through her heavy skirts, but she couldn't bring herself to care. The boy was gone, again. But in the reflection of the water, she saw the boy again. 

And clasping his hand, tightly, was another boy, a little bit younger, but just as beautiful.

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**Comments?**


End file.
